Omnia Mutantur Nihil Interit
by IDCard
Summary: everything changes nothing dies - latin phrase  When Carlisle is killed by vampire-hating locals, one member of the family takes it upon themselves to avenge his death. AU, OOC. Rated M for violence.


A/N: Disclaimers 1) I do not own twilight. and 2) this fic will have violence in it. Just so you know.  
>See bottom AN for more of my ramblings (feel free to read the fic first lol)

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><p>My family is very different, but also kind, caring and considerate. This is quite strange as we are all vampires. Fortunately for the humans that live in the surrounding area, we do not drink human blood. Animal blood is not ideal, but since we have a conscience and do not wish to harm the humans, we eat livestock, just as they do. Unfortunately, they do not come close enough for us to explain this fact to them, so they try to hunt us. Each year they send new warriors to us, in an attempt to kill us. They always stop and gasp when they see us – especially my sisters. Most of the warriors are fresh from youth, awkward and gangly with soft downy beards on their faces. It hurt me to have to need to defend myself against these poor boys. I always hung in the back, never moving faster than the slowest of us – Carlisle, the eldest and the leader of our coven. He was created after finding a coven of vampires in the city where he lived. After trying to attack the vampires with a mob, Carlisle was bitten and therefore could not return to his human family. Carlisle discovered that the loss of human life was not a necessity for him to carry on his existence and as a result made the vampire history books as the first "stregoni benefici".<p>

In time Carlisle grew lonely and started our family. Others heard of his way of life and joined. Some gave up and left and some stayed. Carlisle created some of us too, but some had come from families like ours when their own leaders had been murdered, or their groups disbanded by extremists who hunted vampires like us. These were the more volatile members of our group, and thirsted for revenge. They were the ones at the front of the attack, always. Some times they slipped from our diet and reverted back to the natural vampiric lifestyle. Carlisle is always so forgiving of them and they return to our ways soon enough. However, some continue to kill humans, and cause an attack.

A close noise caught me unawares and brought me back to here and now. Usually I can concentrate on several things at once, my mental capacity being so huge, but today is different. Today is the first day we do not have Carlisle with us. He stayed in our home whilst we went to hunt. It made many of us uneasy, as he is the grounding force for us to stick to animals. The noise is fleshy, and smells warm… "Human!" is whispered throughout our gathering in varying tones.

Most are wary, on guard, but some have a hint of excitement in their expressions – Emmett especially. Our newest brother, he was created because my sister Rosalie had fallen in love with him when he was human. Carlisle bit Emmett to help Rosalie to adapt to this lifestyle, as she had been struggling to abstain from humans. It was a struggle to keep her away from Emmett whilst he was human, and his skin could have been broken at anytime from anything as simple as a paper cut. The risks were too high, so we kidnapped him. The local humans thought he had just been a victim of their own people and did not make a sound about any mythological creatures taking part. The heat from their skin radiated in waves back to us, and many sniffed the air appreciatively. The scent certainly was pleasant, but I reminded them that it was not the way Carlisle wanted us to live. This received some irritated snarls from Emmett, Rosalie and their friends, but it was of utmost importance to keep the younger ones focused. I followed everyone away from were the humans were, going further east to escape from the tantalizing smell of their blood.

The hunt went well. We taught our newest member how to capture the animal without it ripping her clothes, or spilling any blood on them. (Carlisle likes to make the most of our clothes before we get rid of them, and even then we take them to charity shops) It was remarkable to see her catch her first meal and you could tell she was proud of not spoiling her new outfit. After we had all drunk as much as we could, the group started tearing up the path home. Of course, we were much quicker than the humans, so we slowed down to make sure they had moved on. They had gone and left a smouldering pile of charcoal where they had camped, although the smell was much stronger than I thought a small campfire could possibly make.

We continued to run through the forest, with me only partially trying to keep up with the rest of the group. I watched the rear, always alert and checking for signs of human presence. A rope and slice of wood, tied to a tree – a makeshift swing for children. A tidy patch of wildflowers, newly weeded by a kind hearted, green thumbed human. There were tiny pieces of evidence for human activity in this forest, which in itself was strange. The humans who populated this area usually kept to their own perfectly manicured parks, where they knew they were safe. Although most people did not think we still existed, there was a small number who had enough evidence for _something _dangerous that kept the rest away. Occasionally we would find a small group of teenagers talking around a campfire, or sleeping under the stars. Of course, there was also the number of adults who patrolled the woods at certain times of the year. Winter was not one of them, nor was summer. They normally spent their winters all snuggled up by their fires, and their summers out by the sea in some foreign land. They pretended as if we were minions of the devil, but if they did actually think that, they hardly ever acted on their supposed urge to rid the world of our family, of our kind in general.

As we ran closer to our home, the acrid smell of burning grew stronger, registering as danger in the reptilian part of my brain. Maybe they had finally decided to attack? Carlisle would be fine though – he had fought alongside many great warriors, and had acquired an encyclopaedic knowledge of ways to incapacitate a human without hurting it too much. The trees thinned and quickly we were out of the forest. It was our second home, but we preferred to see the stars. Our house has a glass roof so that all night long we can study them. We do have to put the cover back on so we don't burn to cinders though. Sometimes it can be annoying when Carlisle tells us to go onto the roof and replace the cover, interrupting our studies or conversations, but we would rather live to see them the next night and it only takes a second, so we do it anyway. I noticed some of us sniffing the air, and instinctively I did. As the smell flew through my nostrils I recoiled. The scent was of burnt vampire. "Carlisle?" echoed through our number. Some were angry – he had told us to go so we would not disrupt his experiment, and this is how he repaid us? I was only worried. Looking around, I saw that most mirrored my feelings, and we increased our sprint to the pace of a jet, running as hard as we could for home.

The house was our second moon, its white stone walls glowing in the faint starlight. We approached it cautiously, a leftover reaction from our human years. There was not any actual risk to a large group of vampires who had recently eaten (being at their strongest) and were invincible to most things except –

I smelt human here.

Immediately my brain was occupied with all the possible scenarios. Images of Carlisle, covered in human blood aroused the more violent part of me. Many were of the different and numerous ways that the humans could have killed him. A cross shape, burned through his marble skin. Scalded by holy water, his remains only a pile of ashes and his clothes collapsed on top. With sheer will power I halted the images, determined to find the truth. Silently, I gestured for the rest of the group to move in a loose formation towards the house. We winced collectively as we went into our home. The smell was now so pungent even human noses would find it overwhelmingly nauseating. It pressed down on us as we filed in through the grand front doors and leapt through the windows, forcing all but the strongest of us to either gag or hold their breath. Through the smoke and fumes of death, I saw with terrible clarity the pattern of events that had occurred here before our arrival. The humans had noticed our absence, and taken advantage of it. Of course, they would still be scared of guards or traps waiting for them and so were armed. A glitter of metal flashed in the corner of my eye – a silver dagger, with an intricate carving of Jesus on it. Emmett picked it up, but it sizzled against his hand. It was a sharpened crucifix, and burnt an ugly welt against his skin. Rosalie cried out and was instantly at his side. Preoccupied with finding Carlisle, Emmett's pain did not bother me in the slightest. I am not a sadist, but he still has to learn to be aware of crucifixes, or items that have been blessed by a holy man of some kind.

Stepping over several broken pieces of furniture, I noticed that each spike of the wood had thick, congealing blood soaking into it. Carlisle, wherever he was, had put up an impressive fight. A crunch at my feet made commanded my attention. I looked down to the sight of a man of about thirty, his neck broken cleanly. I had smashed his leg with my foot. Whatever Carlisle had done, he had been merciful. I inwardly groaned – would this be his downfall? Had he allowed himself to be captured and saved as an experiment, a specimen of our species for the humans to torture and study? It was something he would do, if it meant not killing them. A murmur of conversation had crept up in volume. Focusing my ears, it became clear that my friends had found Carlisle.

A couple of strides and I was kneeling at his side, cradling his thickly muscular form in my arms. I began talking to him, telling him off for not letting one of us stay by his side to help in some way, to have sent us on an unnecessary hunting trip, that we could have gone another couple of days without it.

Silence.

There was only silence, and silence swallowed me up. Even the ones who had started to talk stopped as I waited for Carlisle's response, and they for my reaction. The quiet became uneasy, and saturated the air. Finally, I forced myself to look into the clear blue-grey eyes, as I had many times before. Their usual twinkle was gone, not a trace of his compassion or intelligence shone out from them, the beacon of trust I had come to rely upon. Reaching a hand towards his face, I was struck by a tsunami of grief. Never again would we share knowledge, or argue companionably about human politics. I found I could not breathe, and when I did the air hitched in my throat, making it acutely uncomfortable. My hand hovered over his eyes, closed them with infinite gentleness and came to rest upon the smooth, olive toned pallor of his granite-like skin. With a quiet, strangled sob sounding from the depths of my throat, I laid my head against his chest and mourned his passing.

The others were embarrassed by my grief. They too had loved Carlisle, but they had not been with him as long as I. They shuffled on their feet impatiently until Emmett said "Well. We should probably clean him up a bit before we bury him – his clothes are soaked in God knows what kind of –" but he stopped as I slowly turned my head around to glare at him. I became aware of three pairs of hands unhooking me from Carlisle. I did not struggle, as I had know wish to remember him as I had seen him just now. Momentarily the image flashed in my mind, but I crushed it down, squashing it into the box in my head with all the other unwanted memories of death and destruction.

The three who held me took me upstairs and deposited me on my sofa quickly, as if I carried a rare kind of disease which they had no cure for and did not want to catch.

All through the night I sat there, staring into the plaster and imagining patterns swirling in it that were not there. A few minutes before dawn, I finally moved from my hunched position on the sofa to my coffin. Settling in, I closed my eyes to prepare for daytime hibernation. Despite my best efforts, the image of Carlisle, slathered with blood and devoid of all emotion and evidence of life, floated into my mind as I sank into unconsciousness.

The next month of nights passed without mark. Everyone carried on with their nightly activities: We started tending to our garden again; spring passed into summer; the humans went on holiday. It seemed as if nothing had ever happened to Carlisle, and no one ever mentioned him. When I had finally come out of my room, all of Carlisle's belongings were nowhere to be found. I could not believe that our leader had died and no one cared in the slightest. It seemed an injustice to Carlisle's memory and I was discombobulated by the lack of action in those who I thought would be most willing to take revenge. Even Emmett had just accepted his death and then taken Rosalie to some distant land. Many of our number just decided that since we no longer had a leader, we would disband as a group. These left, taking as many of their possessions as they could carry. The ones who had wavered on their diets left to join groups who did kill humans, leaving only myself and a handful of others who were either too lazy to leave or did not have the courage to go into the world by themselves.

I had been trying to be nice to those who stayed, but in my grief every little action or word made me angry. Soon enough, the remaining members of the only family I ever had had left me. To fill the time I read books; I studied the stars; I learnt and became fluent in all the main languages of the world; I painted art.

It was not enough.

I decided that revenge was the only way I could return to the person I once was. I would avenge Carlisle's death and then be amicable enough to be able to find my family and stay with them.

The next night I dressed swiftly, and ran to the nearby town. It was near the winter solstice – I had many extra hours of darkness to force Carlisle's murderers to make amends and atone for what they had done to him, to me and to my family.

The murderers' scents were still in my head. They had been so strong at the place of Carlisle's death, and had been ingrained in my memory. I followed the crowd of humans on their way to the pub, laughing and joking all the way – it must be Christmas. How stupid they look, bundled up in several layers of woolly clothing, their fragile faces filled with joy at being surrounded by decadence. Some look at me peculiarly. I remember that I am supposed to be bundled as they are, but it makes no difference now.

Humans are an idiotic race – so unintelligent that they could not even comprehend that their local vampire coven was one of the most friendly they could possibly have. They could not even understand that they had killed the one person keeping those vampires compassionate, and keeping them away from the humans. They would not care anyway. Humans only care for their own, and sometimes not even then. They denounce someone if they have the slightest defect, mental or physical. They cannot even be civil to those who have different skin colour!

The first house on my right reeked of a killer's scent. A man, all alone in his cottage, sitting by the fire in a battered leather armchair. My first target. He was ignorant of his advancing years – the streaks of grey tinting his hair were so light that his pitiful human eyes would not see it before he died. Manipulating the rickety door, I pushed it ajar and stepped into the room. He did not notice my entrance – it almost made me pity him, not knowing he was going to die. Then I remembered how mashed and scarred Carlisle's body had been, and I flew into a frenzied rage.

I jumped to the armchair, grabbed the man and flung him up against the wall. "Do you know what you did?" I snarled at him, right in his face. He just trembled in my grasp. I smelt his fear, emanating from every inch of his skin and seeping through his clothes into my nose. I then saw his small mind finally realise the deed he had to atone for. His face grew angry and defensive, if still coloured by shock and terror. "You're all monsters! It deserved to go to hell after what your lot has done over the centuri—" I cut him off at that point, tightening my grip on his puny neck. A simple flick of my wrist and he was dead. An old wound there had provided an excellent pressure point and caused him to be easily killed. Now to make it look as if he died naturally…

Really, this business of killing was far easier than I had expected. All that was to be done now was to murder the priest who had blessed their tools and given them the holy water which disfigured Carlisle so terribly. He had not been part of the actual attack, but in my eyes he deserved to die just as much as the others. The local church was a pretty building, for human work. The masonry was flawed, though, and the tower leaned slightly to one side.

The priest's dedication to his work was extremely useful to me, though. It meant that I could stage a delightful suicide, worthy of his religious interests. Waiting until he started to sort through and organize his notes in the little office, I set to work taking the bronze statue of Jesus off of his cross. Half way through I realized no human could dislodge such a heavy statue, and quickly replaced it. I would just mimic the wounds inflicted by his silver dagger. I removed the one left at the house from my pocket, cleaned it on a foot rest from a nearby pew, and threw it into the priest's arm. It was beautiful, the sight of his blood flowing free across his crisp white shirt. He fell to the floor, clutching at his arm ineffectively. So funny how the humans try to protect themselves after they have been irreparably damaged (my throw was so hard and accurate, the dagger had dug itself into his bone and there was no way of removing it now). I sauntered over to where he lay, and punched him, hard and rough, in the face. He writhed on the floor, clenching his teeth to stop from crying out. "A tough man, are you? Is that why you did not go with the other humans to kill my friend?" Underneath the purple swellings, his face turned ashen. He seemed to nod, as if to say, "I understand your pain" But I did not care. I placed my foot over his heart and shoved, viciously hard. His whimpers stopped, and I looked down into the bloody and broken face of my final victim, and realised that I may have avenged Carlisle's death, but my awakened thirst for the human race's blood could never be satiated.

The fact that Carlisle would have disapproved did not even matter anymore.

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><p>AN: So, I hope you liked this story. I'd be interested to know whose point of view you thought was telling the story, so please review or pm me! My other story, Complicated, is at the moment being edited by my new co-author, Astrum Nox Noctis, and will be up as soon as it is done. If you're waiting on it, thank you in advance for your patience!


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